Compasses and Coincidences
by starry19
Summary: 6x04 Tag - "There were nights when her sins weighed heavily on her, nights when she would lie awake long after she had gone to bed, staring at her darkened ceiling, wondering what the price for her transgressions was going to be. "


AN: I wasn't even going to write a tag, but then I sat in front of a blank Word document and this is what happened. So sue me.

**Compasses and Coincidences **

_A very manageable five suspects. _

Well, hooray for them. Now they just had a handful of potential serial killers to deal with. Yes, practically speaking, the odds were much more in their favor now, but the fact that two mainly innocent men were dead weighed heavily on her conscience.

This was not how she operated. She used police work, surveillance, witnesses. Occasionally, she would engage in some low-level bluffing or subterfuge to out suspects. Only when Jane was involved did she feel as though she was drifting away from her moral compass.

Fake her death? Sure.

Lie to Homeland Security? Absolutely.

Hide the fact that Jane had lied to a jury and to the FBI? Without batting an eye.

There were nights when her sins weighed heavily on her, nights when she would lie awake long after she had gone to bed, staring at her darkened ceiling, wondering what the price for her transgressions was going to be.

Once, long ago, she'd had fantasies of going down in CBI history as one of their top agents, responsible for putting hundreds of killers away and giving their poor victims a voice from beyond the grave.

Now she suspected that she would simply be remembered as the mediocre agent who let Patrick Jane get away with far too much.

True, she had done what she was supposed to do this time – offering police protection to the names on Jane's fake list. But she hadn't felt particularly remorseful when she discovered Richard Haibach stuffed in a closet with third degree burns and a missing finger.

Instead, she had remembered Jane's words from not terribly long ago, whispered words as he strolled past her in a grimy alley, Lorelei Martins' body silent behind him. _She had it coming_.

Her mindset was bothering her greatly.

Agitated, and once again unable to sleep, she had settled herself in the living room with a strong drink, the glow from the desk lamp her only illumination.

The amber liquid in her glass tasted pleasantly warm, something to ward off the chill that had wrapped itself around her heart. Who was she becoming?

And yet, she knew that she would need to be harder, fiercer, if she was going to stay by Jane's side and see this thing through.

After ten years, they were down to five suspects. This would be the case of her career, but more than that, it would close a chapter in all of their lives that had left deep bruises on all of them.

Distasteful though it was, she had to admire Kirkland's methods. He had been willing to kill seven people, six of whom he believed to be innocent, simply to catch Red John. Although she knew she herself would never go that route, there was something pleasing about the brevity of the method. Short and to the point.

Maybe she could just round everyone else up and threaten to shoot them.

On the way home from Michael Kirkland's cabin, Jane had told her about the conversation he'd had with the Homeland Security agent. Her hope was that he had found some clue that Jane had missed, some piece of evidence that Kirkland had been able to gain access to, thanks to his higher position in the pecking order of federal agencies.

By the look in his eyes, Jane was hoping the same thing.

Strange, that they had formed an unlikely alliance. But it was better to have Kirkland's help than to be without it.

Abruptly, there was a knock on her door.

She was on her feet in an instant, senses on high alert. No one made casual calls at two-thirty in the morning.

Then, "Lisbon? It's me. Are you awake?" Jane's voice came through the door, slightly muffled. He sounded tired.

Quickly, she crossed the room and unlocked the door. Standing in a pool of light from the security lights on the outside of her building, Jane looked almost haggard, the lines of his face being thrown into shadows that looked impossibly deep.

"What happened?" she asked immediately, automatically standing aside to let him in.

Jane took a deep breath, leaning slightly against the countertop in her kitchen. "Kirkland's dead. I just got the news."

She stared, and Jane continued. "According to the driver of the transport van, he tried to make a break for it. The guard said he had no choice but to shoot."

An eerie feeling washed over her. "Convenient."

The corners of Jane's mouth turned up just a touch. "I thought as much, too. Obviously, someone was afraid that Kirkland knew something valuable enough to share with me."

Weary now, she sighed. "Well, there goes one more lead."

"But remember, my dear," Jane said, "we're down to five. It's nearly over."

Yes, she knew that well, but that was what concerned her. There had been so many deaths these past few weeks, and she had the terrible suspicion that they were merely scratching the surface of what was about to happen. Who would be next?

Vividly, she remembered her nightmare from the hospital. It had visited her a few times since then, worse now than it was in the beginning, mainly because she woke up alone in the dark, Jane's soothing voice and gentle hand in her hair nowhere to be found.

Would the team be next? Would Jane? What would she do without him? What if he were killed before they figured out who Red John was? How would she live the rest of her life?

She fought the urge to bury her head in a pillow and scream.

Jane read some of the tension in her posture, his face becoming concerned. "Hang in there," he said quietly.

"I'm trying," she replied, just as softly. It was hard to hide her feelings this late at night. She was too busy concentrating on simply holding herself together. To her horror, she felt the sharp prick of tears. God, all she needed was to fall apart now. She needed sleep, or coffee, or alcohol, or anything that would help her deal with the mounting dread that was haunting her.

Carefully, Jane slid a hand to the back of her head, pulling her forward until her forehead rested on his shoulder.

Unthinking, she turned her face towards his neck, hands pressed against his chest. In a moment, she felt his other arm encircle her.

"Stay strong," he murmured. "This will all be over soon."

And didn't she know that? Probably within a matter of weeks, they would know the truth. And it was terrifying.

She shivered involuntarily, and Jane's grip tightened in response.

"It's alright," he whispered, abandoning his pep talk in favor of trying to ease some of her fears. "Just relax, Teresa. I want you to relax, if just for a moment." His words had taken on an almost hypnotic quality, and she vaguely wondered if it was on purpose. "Just be still," he continued, something tender in his voice now. "Let me be strong enough for both of us."

Her breath caught in her throat, and she felt the first tear slip out of her tightly shut eyelids. She was wound far too tightly to deal with Jane's words properly. When his physical proximity was added in, she felt like breaking down and sobbing all over his chest.

But she kept listening to his soft words, and gradually, her heartbeat settled back down. In a few minutes, she was leaning heavily against his chest, focused on how his fingertips felt as they moved in lazy patterns over her back, and how good his cologne smelled when it mixed with the heat of his body.

Reluctantly, she pulled away. She visibly straightened her shoulders, and Jane looked proud. "That's my girl," he said, the same tender note in his voice that she'd heard before. "Now, go finish your drink and try to get some sleep. Tomorrow is another day, after all, and we have work to do."

Right. Back to the pep talk he went.

But he winked at her as he left, his overt display of charm telling her that he was worried as well. She recalled the lines on his face.

_Let me be strong enough for the both of us_, he had said.

Well, perhaps that was fine for one moment of weakness, but it couldn't happen again. Jane was stretched thin as it was; he didn't need her breakdowns to contend with as well.

No, they would _both_ be strong. They both had to be.


End file.
